by E. M. Hardy
He was also one of the few orcs that Kurdan was not confident he could defeat in a straight challenge.
“I do,” replied Kurdan, tersely and with all the threat he could manage. His admission surprised Gnadug, along with many of the assembled orcs. “If our tribe is to do more than survive, I need to break down the useless traditions set down by the lazy, fearful orcs of old.” He hocked and spat out a glob of saliva to the ground as he faced his Axe. “Let us say that I stick to the tradition of torment. I let you and every orc here have their way with our fresh, new toys here. The weakest die today, the less-weak of them die in a week, and the not-so-weak die in two weeks. We feel good about ourselves. We congratulate one another for showing how strong we are after tormenting the humans.” Kurdan’s laughter was cruel, mocking, and this more than anything else shot fear into the heart of the other orcs in the village.
Gnadug just stared blankly at Kurdan.
“And what happens after that? We still go back to hunting and foraging for our food, then we relocate once we strip the land of all food and game. We enter the territory of another tribe, and we kill each other over food and land.”
Kurdan stepped closer to Gnadug, who kept his gaze locked straight into the chieftain’s eyes. “I do not wish to follow the path of the idiotic chieftains who kept us stuck where we are now. I will not have us end up as another forgotten clutch of orclings eaten up by another brood of orclings. No, my Axe, I have greater dreams for every single orc in this tribe. I want my orclings to inherit a tribe that stands strong, powerful, and ambitious—and I will tear down any tradition I must if it means turning that dream into reality.”
Kurdan hoped that Gnadug would back down. He and the big orc had gone through a lot as orclings; growing up in the same brood, joining in numerous raids, and fighting in many skirmishers against other tribes. The chieftain did not want to cross him due to the trials they had shared and overcome together. More importantly, he did not want to go up against Gnadug’s prowess in battle.
It would not be, however.
“No,” uttered Gnadug, a frown crossing his face. “Our ways make us stronger than the humans. Our constant fighting weeds out the weak and leaves the strong. Our tormenting of captives binds us together as a people, keeps us united, and reminds us of our strength” He narrowed his eyes as he spoke. “I followed you because you were stronger than Zurgha. The others follow you because you were stronger than Zurgha. But now you would have us adopt the human ways of coddling the weakest? Of making things instead of taking them?” Gnadug shook his head. “No. I refuse to follow you in this foolishness, and I will not allow you to lead us all into ruin.”
Kurdan grunted in disappointment, knowing full well what would happen the moment Gnadug unbuckled his axe and let it drop to the floor.
“I, Gnadug, challenge Kurdan for leadership of the tribe.”
Kurdan narrowed his eyes as he stared at his challenger. “So. Your ambition comes out at last.” The chieftain roared in laughter, setting aside his worry and replacing it with bravado. “For all your talk about tradition, about honoring the old ways, you seem to have conveniently forgotten that a challenge can only be issued once a year.”
Gnadug stood his ground, saying nothing as he stripped his loincloth. “The same can be said of you, Kurdan. You want to throw away the old ways, yet you conveniently hide behind them once they threaten your rule.” He growled, clenching and unclenching his jaw in anticipation of the coming fight. “Abide by the old ways and join us in tormenting the humans, as is our right by might, and I too will honor the old ways by withdrawing my challenge. I will even submit myself to whatever punishment you see fit for disrespecting you. We must revel in strength in the same way that our ancestors did, not allow ourselves to grow weak and fragile like the humans.”
Curiously enough, Gnadug’s tone shifted from one of naked aggression into one that pleaded with the chieftain. It became clear to Kurdan that Gnadug was not driven by ambition. The big orc did not lust for power like Kurdan had when he slew the old chieftain Zurgha. No, Gnadug was driven by fear that Kurdan’s new ways would hurt the tribe—make everyone soft and weak. It was a concern that Kurdan shared, but the things he had seen in Isiah’s world shook him from that idea. A thousand—no, even ten thousand orcs would be no match for what he had witnessed. The hunter-gatherer ways would not allow them to grow in sufficient numbers, and neither would it foster the kind of development he needed from the orcs.
“No,” replied Kurdan with as much sadness as he could muster. “The old ways have shaped us into what we are now, but they will not be enough for my ambitions.”
“So,” Kurdan said as he unstrapped his own weapons, letting his mighty battleaxe, hefty club, and wicked dagger drop down to the dirt. “Challenge me if you must. If you win, then you will get what you want—another tribe of grunting, snorting orcs killing one another for meager hunting ground.” Kurdan smiled then—a smile that for the first time, unnerved the ever-stoic Gnadug enough to take a step back. “But if I win… I hope that your spirit lingers long enough to see what we can become, instead of what we once were.”
***
“That could have gone better,” Isiah said within Kurdan’s mind as the challenged chieftain undid his own loincloth to match Gnadug’s nakedness. The other orcs formed a ring around the two combatants. The air was thick with tension, not one orc mumbling a word. The scope of his ambition impressed them, but they were unnerved by his utter disregard for traditions that even the oldest orc had known since they were but mere orclings lapping up their mother’s blood. Even the bound humans could do nothing but watch in equal parts wonder and horror, knowing that they would live or die by the outcome of this match.
Kurdan said nothing back to Isiah as he rolled his shoulders and stretched his arms, eyes focused only on Gnadug. “All your arguments, all your ideas, all the carefully-scripted words you prepared—they mean nothing now,” he thought tersely to his human passenger. “Gnadug offered me a way out of this challenge, and I respect him for doing what he thinks is best for the tribe; but I cannot back down from this challenge—not now.” He snorted and spat before continuing. “Which is why you need to shut up and let me concentrate on the coming battle. Gnadug is both strong and experienced, so I will need every measure of focus I can get if I hope to kill him.”
Isiah obeyed, which pleased Kurdan. He could not afford any distractions, not if he wanted to survive this life-or-death duel with the tribe’s most battle-tested warrior.
There was no formal start to the challenge, no one shouting out ‘begin’ or giving out some sort of signal. One moment the two naked challengers circled each other, eyeing their opponent like birds of prey; the next they crashed into one another in a mighty explosion of power and fury that rumbled through the lungs and bones of the nearby orcs.
The two knotted together, muscles bulging as they attempted to wrestle the other to the ground. The opening moments of the challenge were spent this way, both orcs testing the strength of their rival. It quickly became apparent to Kurdan that he would not be able to match the strength of Gnadug, so he decided to try and get some leverage instead. Kurdan angled his body in a way that let him slip his hand underneath Gnadug’s armpit, pushing the bigger orc’s arms up in the air. Kurdan then hooked his other hand around, forming a tight lock around the other orc’s arms. Kurdan grunted as he took a knee to the shin then another knee into the gut before he stepped inside Gnadug’s reach.
This was, unfortunately, exactly what the bigger orc wanted Kurdan to do.
While Kurdan was distracted by Gnadug’s bone-shaking knees to the gut, Gnadug spun his body around—loosening Kurdan’s grip on his shoulders. Gnadug created enough space for him to unleash a devastating elbow into Kurdan’s temple.
The full-powered force of such a strike would have caved in the head of a normal human. It would have not only cracked his skull but drove shards of bone into the brain—instantly killing the u
nlucky recipient of such a blow while sending his body hurtling off to the side. Kurdan, however, simply grunted off the titanic blow. He followed through by ducking low and grabbing one of Gnadug’s legs by the heels.
It wasn’t that Kurdan felt no pain. On the contrary, his vision reddened as spots appeared within his line of sight. Kurdan knew from experience that the blow was more pain than injury, though. He already commanded his blood to carry away the dead and injured flesh, though he did not spend as much time or focus healing himself. He was too busy fighting for his life to focus solely on repairing the damage caused by Gnadug’s blow. He tugged at the big orc’s heel in an attempt to knock him down. He moved a moment too late though, as Gnadug instinctively stepped back with his free foot. This gave him the leverage he needed to avoid losing his balance, and he quickly followed up with a two-handed smash aimed straight at the back of Kurdan’s neck.
The chieftain, however, had anticipated this blow. He ducked even lower and dove right into Gnadug’s other leg. He shouldered his way in, pitting the weight of his entire body upon the one limb that supported Gnadug’s entire weight. Kurdan grunted as he slammed his shoulder heavily into the shin, pouring as much power as he could into the lunge.
It had no effect.
Kurdan ignored what happened. He was quite sure he was supposed to buckle an exposed limb with a powered tackle, not slam into an unmoving boulder disguised as a tree trunk. The effect was the same, and Kurdan did not even have time to register just how much strength Gnadug needed to shrug off such an impact.
What Kurdan did register, however, was the big orc’s two-handed smash. It was nothing fancy. In fact, it was the same kind of blow that the big orc had tried a few moments earlier. The only difference being that it connected this time around—and to the base of Kurdan’s neck, no less.
Orcs don’t brawl the same way the other races do. The other races inflict pain upon one another to make the other submit. Things might get out of hand, where bones may break or organs may end up ruptured, but the general goal is to hit until the other guy stops moving. Orcs, however, need to get even closer and more personal. Punches and kicks may kill lesser beings in one strike, but tough muscles and even tougher bones of orcs mean that they won’t die easily to bludgeoning.
And besides, pain can very easily translate into a blood rage. The first one to rage usually wins through the sheer destructive power they can put out, which is why orcs aim to kill rather than injure.
Their nerves, however, are only slightly more resistant to injury. If an orc strikes another orc in just the right spot—say, the gaps in the spine behind an orc’s neck—then the force of the blow can travel up the fleshy bits inside the spine. Those fleshy bits connect an orc’s brain to the rest of his body. Hit it with enough force to disrupt that connection, and an orc will go out cold. Not for long though, as orcs are still hardier than most other races.
It was all the time that Gnadug needed.
Gnadug did not bother instructing his blood to fix his injured leg, which held up to Kurdan’s tackle but not without getting damaged in the process. He instead planted his good knee on Kurdan’s back, grounding the unconscious orc face-first into the dirt. He then stood up straight, pulled up a leg, and prepared to stomp down into Kurdan’s skull over and over until the bone eventually broke.
That’s when Isiah took over.
Chapter 09
Isiah did not have time to think about what he was doing with Kurdan’s body. He simply rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the stomp aimed squarely at ‘his’ head. Or more accurately, the stomp aimed at Kurdan’s head.
Isiah shook his head as he stood up. Each motion he made was infused with so much power that he couldn’t help but wind up disoriented. Shaking his head to the side to clear the stunning effects of the blow, the motion of putting one foot in front of him to help him stand up, even raising a hand to wipe away the mud from his face—so much strength flowed through each simple action. It was then that he understood why Kurdan scorned him so, especially since he had so much power at his disposal. He would have most probably fallen flat on his face from overdoing his steps, losing his balance, if it wasn’t for all the time he had spent squatting in Kurdan’s mind.
The problem here was that the roiling pile of scarred muscle in front of him was stronger than Kurdan. Isiah was lucky that Kurdan’s tackle had done enough damage to Gnadug’s leg, otherwise the big orc would have launched himself at him by now. Not that Kurdan didn’t sustain damage of his own. Isiah worked double-time, instructing Kurdan’s blood to begin repairing the injured nerves connecting his spine to the rest of the body. He did so while watching Gnadug do the same to his leg; his opponent grimacing as he locked his gaze with the chieftain who had recovered from a blow that should have kept him unconscious for at least a few more minutes.
They simply stared at one another, each healing their respective wounds.
“Kurdan,” he thought into his mind. “Kurdan!”
Nothing, no reply. He tried again and again, hoping to hand over control back to the orc. He didn’t know what to do in this situation. He didn’t know the rules of this challenge, what he could and couldn’t do. Heck, he wasn’t even sure how to deal with the oversized chunk of meat that wanted to rip him to shreds. Should he go for Gnadug’s large balls that heaved up and down each time the big orc breathed? Would an armbar work the same way it would against a normal human, or did orcish anatomy work differently in that regard?
Isiah didn’t get any more time to ponder his situation. Gnadug growled as he leapt forward, barreling onward with both legs as if one of them wasn’t broken to bits just a few moments earlier.
Isiah remembered his sparring sessions with his father and dodged out of the way, giving Gnadug a little push on the back while doing so. The big orc’s face lit up with surprise as he found himself pitching forward, unable to correct himself before he landed face-first into the ground. Isiah stood to the side in Kurdan’s body, suddenly reminded that this entire scenario was exactly like his sparring sessions with his father. Him, the weak son, up against his dad—a military man who was leagues stronger and better-skilled than he was.
Gnadug stood up with a growl. He whipped around, flailing an arm in a savage backhand as he expected Kurdan to pounce upon his moment of vulnerability. Instead of charging in, however, Isiah did what his father had taught him: he assumed the default stance. One arm bent slightly forward, the other bent slightly downward. One leg slightly in front of the other, ready to react at a moment’s notice. He kept his hands loose and ready to either grab or strike depending on the opportunity that presented itself.
Isiah stood his ground, waiting for Gnadug to make the first move. Gnadug frowned at his opponent’s strange posture, unaware of Isiah’s intentions. He assumed that Kurdan might have more trouble recovering from the blow to the neck than he thought. Maybe the chieftain was buying time, which could explain his strangely defensive posture. Seeing it as a moment of weakness, Gnadug rushed in aggressively, his arms outstretched to wrestle Kurdan to the ground.
Isiah had a different idea though. He deftly stepped to the side and snapped his fist out, catching Gnadug in the face before stepping back out and assuming his defensive position. Such a jab was powerful by human standards, the equivalent of a knockout punch that would flatten the average man while breaking his chin. It was nothing more than a slap to Gnadug, however, who ended up annoyed by his opponent’s insultingly weak tap. Gnadug lunged once more, expecting his opponent to repeat his weak punch, and aimed to grab the overextended arm to use as leverage.
Isiah danced away once more, the footwork his father had drilled into him translating well into Kurdan’s powerful body. He ducked low, avoiding Gnadug’s arms entirely, and kicked at Gnadug’s ankles. Gnadug was strong, that much was certain, but his strength meant nothing when his feet could not find purchase. Gnadug pitched forward again, but not before catching a fist to the nose on the way down to the gro
und.
Orcs had bones within their nasal cavities, unlike humans that had cartilage in it. Isiah didn’t know this, but it didn’t matter because Kurdan’s body possessed enough power to punch through the bones within Gnadug’s nose. It was an injury that Gnadug could easily heal within a matter of moments—except Isiah didn’t let him. Isiah stepped back and spun around, bringing his heel high up in the air. He brought that heel crashing into Gnadug’s chest, aiming straight for the ribcage.
Kurdan’s immense strength coupled with the spinning momentum hurt Gnadug a lot. The only problem, however, was that it helped Gnadug more than it hindered him. Isiah fought like a human: inflicting pain upon the other guy until they were unable to fight back. Yet, orcs don’t react that way to pain. To them, pain is a key that unlocks their fury. They do not like feeling pain, for it reminds them of their weakness and mortality. Pain shames them, and they will do everything they can to take revenge against those who inflict such shame upon them.
And thus, the injured orc fell deep into his blood rage fueled by the shame that his opponent had exacted upon him.
Isiah ended up surprised at Gnadug’s miraculous recovery as the orc jumped up in a fit of explosive fury. Isiah jumped back, caution coloring his every movement. Gnadug jumped up and roared, blood and spit flying out his mouth as he directed every ounce of fury toward his opponent. Gnadug frothed at the lips as he charged, forgetting the injuries to his body as he let the bloodlust carry him into battle.
Isiah grimaced as he prepared to receive Gnadug’s attack. That grimace quickly morphed into despair as he realized that not only did Gnadug grow stronger, he also grew faster.
Isiah leapt back, narrowly avoiding the crushing grip of Gnadug’s frenzied assault. The crazed orc wanted nothing more than to clamp down upon his enemy’s limbs and tear them out from their socket. He snapped a jab out, catching Gnadug in the chin, but the big orc barely registered the hit. He kept his gaze locked onto his opponent as he reached out and tried to grab the offending limb—missing it by a hair’s breadth.
